


Watch

by CaptainStormChaser



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Admiring from Afar, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Because Gabe is a vampire, But also without sociopolitical issues, Consensual Underage Sex, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Dream Sex, F/M, Gabe is a very old very strong vampire, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lich Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Longing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, No Lube, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sombra is a little shit, Vampire Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Vampire Sombra, Virgin Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Wet Dream, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Witch Sombra, You don't need lube when it's dream sex, Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, medieval setting, pocket watch symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainStormChaser/pseuds/CaptainStormChaser
Summary: Jack's village lives under the “protection” of a vampire, safe from invaders and monsters alike so long as they meet the demands given. When Gabriel Reyes makes a request that a very specific individual be placed in his care, Jack is shut out of his home and trapped in an opulent manor surrounded by inhuman creatures. But Reyes himself—Jack could swear he's seen his eyes somewhere before. And where are these dreams coming from?Or, in which a vampire falls in love with a kindhearted village boy and is not nearly as edgy as he pretends to be.





	1. Chapter One

Jack shot up, hands grasping tightly to the unfamiliar bedsheets as the nightmare faded from his mind, leaving in its wake only his gasping breaths and the overwhelming sense of wrongness.

He was nude, he noted with surprise, only a sheet preserving his modesty. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Crisp linen bandages were wrapped around his stomach, dry, weak maroon blossoming from his right side above his hip.

Jack wet his lips and pushed his hair from his forehead, slumping his torso partially over with a wince of pain. His surroundings were unfamiliar, of an opulence he’d never witnessed before, even when he’d first been brought into the home of the mayor only a week prior.

The furnishings were plain, though painstakingly carved from wood that spoke of an artisan’s touch and countless hours of work. The mattress beneath him was stuffed with feathers, he realized after a moment of ridiculous rocking around, not straw. The curtains were parted, a slim stream of orange light telling of twilight.

Jack sincerely hoped it was actually dawn playing with color, else it meant he’d lost an entire day.

* * *

**ONE DAY AGO**

Running. Running. All he was able to do was run, because everything else was a waste of time that Jack didn’t have.

The town stood at his back, all candles extinguished and fires dimmed, curtains drawn. If Jack were to look back, he would see nothing. Nothing but the shadowed outline of his home, doors bolted to him.

How fitting.

He knew Angela would be peering out the window, hoping to catch a last glimpse of him before he was gone forever. He also knew her parents would be pulling her from the window, grateful only that their child was not the one chosen.

Jack couldn’t go far, he realized. He had no food, no water, sent off without so much as a butter knife to defend himself with.

The sun was low in the sky, but not yet hidden by the horizon. Jack still had time to put some distance between himself and the village before the creature could begin to hunt.

His only hope then was to find shelter and hide through the night.

Jack paused for a moment to catch his breath, sides cramping and heaving. He couldn’t stop. Every second was precious. His grandfather’s pocket watch, gifted to him on his twentieth name day, reminded him of this, steadily over his racing heart.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Jack shook his head to clear it, and started up again. He could hear the gush of the river, water crashing against the banks. The creature hunted by scent like a beast, did it not? Jack could cross through it, erase some of the sweat clinging to his skin.

The water was high this time of year, children carefully herded away from the banks and shepherded to the millpond by the Widow Elois’s place for their swimming. Still, Jack didn’t hesitate to step into it, nearly jerking back at the cold. Steeling himself he walked into the river, feeling the force shove into him and try to tear him away with the current.

Each step was conscientious, steady, his head tipped back as he reached the middle to avoid going under.

When Jack reached the far bank, he couldn’t control the shivering in his muscles, wishing he was under the liberty to light a fire. It would be a while before his clothes dried out again in the humid summer air.

The cold seeped the strength from his bones, he realized, going forward at a mere walking pace. All the same, any distance was valuable. Jack had reached a wooded area by the time the sunlight faded. He needed only find somewhere he could burrow, a thicket he could cower in like a rabbit until dawn. The idea made him bristle, but his pride was not worth his life tonight.

A crack made him go rigid. Jack held his breath, eyes darting around frantically for the source.

A low laughter, echoing through the trees.

Jack ran.

He ignored the ache of his muscles, fueled solely by adrenaline.

His pursuer made no attempt to disguise itself, dogging Jack’s heels.

A stumble devolved into a trip, and Jack hit the ground hard, breath pushed from his lungs. Pain spread up his side.

Boots crunched and approached him. A hand grasped his shirt collar from the back, pulling his torso up.

“Sleep.” A smooth voice whispered in his ear, and Jack knew only blackness.

* * *

**PRESENT**

No, no, no no no no no. Jack had to leave, had to leave immediately. He needed to arm himself in case it came after him, _when_ it came after him. With no small amount of difficulty, Jack got to his feet, hand on the bed for support. He needed clothes, he needed food and water, any money he could find,

Jack was not alone in the room.

A tall woman stood in front of the door, dark hair pulled from her face and a flat, damask-wrapped box in her hands.

Jack hastened to rip the sheet from the bed to cover himself.

However, her golden eyes seemed uninterested, glazed, as though she were looking through him. Her eyes weren’t the only thing that struck him as odd; her skin was alarmingly pale, lips and fingers taking on a bluish hue.

“I will escort you to breakfast.” She told him in monotone. She held the box forward to him in offering.

Hesitating, Jack moved forward enough to take the box from her grip. He lifted the lid, finding inside a set of clothes. A silk shirt, a vest of brocade. As uncomfortably posh as they were, he was grateful to longer be nude. Of course…

“Can you please turn away?” Jack asked the woman. She gave no indication that he had spoken. “Just while I dress, could you face the wall?”

With what was surely an air of irritation, the pale woman turned around. Still, Jack kept the sheet up, nearly draped over his shoulders while he stepped into the crisp trousers, pulled the stockings up.

The buttons of the vest were mother-of-pearl, he noted, the edging done in gold thread. His grandfather’s pocket watch was in the box as well. Jack had feared it had been broken when he’d fallen, but faithfully it ticked against his side when he tucked it into the pocket of the vest.

Jack cleared his throat when he was fully clothed, looking to the woman. “A-am I to be breakfast, then?” He asked, trying to keep his fear from catching his words in his throat.

The woman hummed thoughtfully, looking him over. “Not tonight.” She said, turning to the door and opening it. She beckoned him with a single finger. “Come.”

Jack followed, eyes darting about the place in wonder and unease. The walls were papered a somber maroon, candles set into sconces burning. His escort led him down the hallway, then down a staircase. She stopped beside an open door, trickles of conversation coming out.

His eyes darting to her cautiously, Jack entered the room. It seemed to be a parlor of sorts, books lining one wall and plush sofas and elegant tables arranged around the room, the entire west wall made up of tall windows of smooth glass that showed the grounds and the setting sun. A pair of men sat at one table, their conversation halting when Jack entered.

One was hairy and wild-looking, beard unkempt. Jack had slaughtered pigs before, seen their hearts and kidneys and lungs. On the man’s otherwise pristine porcelain plate, a larger version of a sow’s heart sat, half missing and fork and knife bloodied.

The man’s companion was immaculate in dress and grooming, black hair tied back and clothes smooth. The second man’s eyes were sharp, following Jack as though he were a curiosity for only a few moments. This man’s plate bore only a few biscuits, a cup of tea held in midair as though preparing to take a drink before interrupted.

“It is rude to stare, Jesse.”

Jack nearly leapt out of his skin as the voice of the pale woman sounded scant inches away from him, her footsteps silent as she passed him and set a serving tray on one of the unoccupied tables.

The hairy man laughed. “Well shit Amélie, we don’t exactly get new additions every day.” He took the teacup from his companion’s hand, ignoring the venomous glare he was shot and the serpentine hiss as he drained it. “‘Specially not live ones.” He tacked on as an afterthought, making Jack wonder with a trill of fear just exactly what he was sharing the parlor with.

The woman, Amélie, pulled out the chair before the tray, gesturing for Jack to sit. Seeing little room to argue, Jack took the seat and watched as she placed a plate with two rolls cut open and held back together with jam atop it in front of him. “Do not act as though you did not know he was coming.” Amélie chided. “Gabriel has spent the decade preparing and fussing.”

Jesse gave a wolfish grin in response, turning back to his companion. “Been too busy to notice.”

“Or thick-headed.” The thus-far silent man remarked.

“Now I know that’s not the thick part of me ya like, darlin’.”

“Get a room.” A new voice said. “Don’t need you clawing at the door tomorrow like a bitch in heat again, McCree.” A young woman, one side of her head shorn short and eyes not unaccustomed to mischief. Said eyes fell on Amélie. “Zombie.” She greeted.

“Witch.” Amélie shot back, not bothering to glance up from pouring tea. She slid the cup in front of Jack.

The newcomer’s gaze settled on Jack. “So this is Gabbi’s new pet.” She took the seat across from Jack, grin malicious as he squirmed under her watch. “He’s pretty.” She commented.

Jack found his voice. “I’m not-”

“He’s scared shitless!” She exclaimed with delight.

“Virgin too.” Jesse added helpfully, tapping the side of his nose. His next bite of heart made a wet noise as he chewed.

A flush climbed Jack’s neck, and the girl began to laugh at him.

“Ignore the buffoons, Jack.” Amélie advised. “Eat.”

No longer caring if or how she knew his name, Jack ate.

* * *

**TWO DAYS AGO**

A figure sat beside him beneath the ridge, untying her handkerchief to present an apple, a wedge of cheese, and a heel of bread.

Jack pared the apple while Angela divided the bread and cheese, as they had always done.

But things were no longer as they always were, the tension hanging over them like a stifling blanket on a hot summer night, the risk of the sharp and lingering bites of insects enough to make the blanket seem preferable to clear air.

It was Angela who spoke. Always the braver of the two of them, whatever she might claim.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “It’s for the best.” He answered blankly, the mantra that he had used to push himself this far.

“No it’s not.” His friend insisted. If he turned his head, he knew he would see the color begin to rise in her cheeks as it always did when she was frustrated. “I can talk to my parents, we can shelter you,”

“You know as well as I do that it would only get you killed. If I go willingly, everyone else will be safe. I have to do this.”

The silence dragged out between them. Angela leaned to the side, resting her head on Jack’s shoulder, her side pressing Jack’s grandfather’s pocket watch tightly to his chest.

_Tick, tick, tick._

“Just… don’t do anything foolish, Jack. Promise me.”

Jack looked at Angela. He could see where her hair had started to fall from its neat knot, the concern in her eyes. Too old for her age, nearly five years younger than Jack.

Part of Jack ached to make a quip, to assume normalcy. But that wasn’t what Angela needed. Instead he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I promise.”

* * *

**PRESENT**

The night passed much like that, with Amélie guiding Jack through the manor, showing him the rooms.

“You will not get far if you run.” She’d told him, when she showed him the front doors. “Gabriel will only bring you back.”

“Where is Gabriel?” Jack asked. “If he wanted me here so badly, shouldn’t he have killed me by now?” Honestly, it was the waiting that wore on Jack’s nerves. For weeks, ever since the mayor had summoned him and his parents, Jack had been dreading coming face to face with the beast that lurked on the edges of the valley. The devourer of souls. The capricious guardian and undisputed ruler of the village.

The vampire.

* * *

**ONE WEEK AGO**

Jack tugged at the cuff of his stiff sleeve, trying to make it come farther down his wrist. His father’s old shirt fit him poorly, but it was the nicest thing he had to wear.

His mother put her hand on his arm. She gave him a small smile. The Morrisons had never been asked to see the mayor before. That he had asked for the son, barely a man, spoke either dauntingly or very well.

Mayor Petras had not looked at Jack since the three had filed into his office, merely offered them seats and wine.

“Perhaps this is a matter best discussed without your son present.” Petras had said.

Jack’s father had narrowed his eyes. “You called us here to talk about Jack. He should hear it too.”

Mayor Petras cleared his throat uncomfortably. “As you know, I must handle all requests of the creature.” These were few and far between. Besides the curfew in the nights bracketing the full moon and the supply wagons regularly coming through, it was easy to believe the monster off in his manor was merely a children’s story. “It wants… your son.”

Jack stared straight ahead at the mayor. He could hear his mother and father protesting, arguing, pleading.

He could recall the bandits who’d come through the village when he was a boy. Several homes had been burned, horses and supplies stolen, four people killed.

He could recall the night after they’d left, their screams echoing through the valley and stopping a young boy from sleeping a wink as he clutched into his mother’s skirts.

He could recall the dawn that followed, the whole town awaking to the sight of the stolen goods and animals scattered haphazardly about the square, the total count of thieves uncertain for how mutilated the bodies were, staining the earth red.

A request came from the manor that same morning for a good bottle of wine and a half-pound of lye.

A wave of its hand, and the creature would obliterate the village.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Jack looked up, cutting off whatever his father had been saying.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

**PRESENT**

It was surreal, in truth. Were he not grounded by the unfaltering ticking at his side, Jack would almost think this were a fevered delusion.

“He is in his study.” Amélie said. “He waits for you to come to him.”

Jack nearly scoffed at the idea. “He honestly thinks I’ll come to him to die?”

“Non.” Amélie said, effectively ending the conversation.

After a solitary dinner, Amélie returned him to the room he’d awoken in.

She bade him to remove his shirt that she might see his wound.

Jack turned his head away as she removed the bandages, washing dried blood from the wound and wrapping it once more.

When she left him, it was past dawn. Try as he might, Jack couldn’t help but fall asleep, even through the daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Overwatch.  
> I'd love to play it some day.
> 
> As always, leave a comment and tell me what you thought. Find me at a-sad-little-biscuit.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content ahead.

A soft set of footsteps on the floor was what stirred Jack from sleep, the sky dotted with the weak light of stars and the lambent gleam of the moon. Strange, as he had gone to sleep at sunrise. He had thought Amélie would again wake him at the first sign of gloaming.

Jack felt no fear as the figure approached his bedside, nor felt any pain when he sat up.

The figure stilled at the side of the bed. In the light, Jack could see his features.

He was bare, and handsome. Face dappled with scars, bristly facial hair honed to give texture to his chin and mouth. His eyes were warm and eerily familiar.

The man caught his hand, and Jack realized he had reached out without noticing.

The man smiled, showing white teeth. He raised Jack’s hand, pressing his lips to the knuckles.

“Mi sol,” he purred, kissing the inside of Jack’s wrist. “Don’t tempt me like this. Not when you’re so close.”

Jack found his mouth dry when he tried to answer, having to swallow and wet his lips. “I want you.” He whispered hoarsely, scarcely recognizing his own voice. “Please.”

“I know.” The man said. “But not until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” Jack said firmly, trying to pull the man closer.

“Do you even know who I am?” Amusement in those eyes, but also sadness.

“Yes.”

A low chuckle. Jack quickly decided he liked it. He wanted to submerge himself in the rumbling sound, to breathe and bathe in it while laying abed in beams sunlight turned red by the horizon.

“Who?”

Jack parted his lips to answer, finding the answer failing him. “Please,” he repeated instead.

The man sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. A jerk of Jack’s arm, and he had the man atop him.

Jack kissed him.

His lips were warm, soft, heartbeat pulsing through them. A moment of being surprised at himself, and Jack moved his lips, nipping at the man’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth.

Heat coursed through his belly as hands went for his trousers, undoing the front and shoving them down his thighs.

Jack gasped aloud when skilled fingers wrapped around his cock, mouth smiling against his.

“So beautiful, Jack, so perfect.” The man crooned in whisper. His hand pulled away, and Jack let out a noise of complaint before thick thighs parted, the man straddling him. A generous ass ground against his cock, the smell in the air heady and masculine.

Jack settled his hands on the man’s hips, trying to keep his breath steady as his cock was guided to the man’s hole, sinking slowly into him. He exhaled sharply when the man was seated atop his lap, hot and tight around him.

The man laughed at the sounds Jack made as he lifted himself up and sank back down slowly. Too slowly. His hands held Jack down firmly, keeping every movement at a steady pace.

“Please,” Jack panted, breath shaky.

“Show me you can handle it, Jackie.” The man taunted.

Gritting his teeth, Jack rolled them so that he was on top. The man looked at him, issuing a silent challenge.

With a low growl, Jack began pounding into the man, chasing his own release. Encouraging words peppered the air, punctuated with moans.

The man’s arms wrapped around Jack’s torso, sharp fingernails dragging menacing stripes down his back. Their rhythm stuttered, Jack’s hips jerking as he came deep inside the man.

He panted, pressing their foreheads together. Hot lips found his and he reached down, taking the man’s neglected cock in hand and jerking him until he came between them.

“Please,” Jack whispered, unsure what he was even asking for.

“I don’t know if you’ll thank me for letting you keep this.” The man said seriously.

“I want to remember this. Remember you.”

The man sighed in resignation, holding Jack close. “Just promise me you won’t panic when you wake up.”

“Promise.”

* * *

It was thunder that woke Jack this time, rain pelting the window of the room. Startled, he took a moment to compose himself before he sat up. The pain in his side had lessened significantly, though the scabbing wound was still tender to the touch.

Hard to tell with the storm, though it looked it might be late evening.

He realized his trousers were wet at the front. Jack shoved his face into his hands, grateful that Amélie wasn’t in the room, impassive though she may be, to see him after coming in his pants like a teenager over an arousing dream.

A set of clothes sat waiting for him on the desk beside his grandfather’s pocket watch. Grateful to remove his trousers, Jack hastily set about dressing. It took less time than it had the day before to navigate the intricacies of the clothes, dressing himself from the waist down quickly.

As Jack pulled on the shirt, he winced at a discomfort shooting through his back. He ran his hand over his shoulder, searching for the source, and froze. He checked again.

Three—no, four—lines of raised flesh down his back. The same on the other side.

Jack went pale, standing perfectly still for a few moments before he hurriedly finished dressing himself and grabbed his grandfather’s pocket watch.

He didn’t encounter anyone else, mercifully, as he tore through the manor, trying to recall the quickest route to the main hall. The doors stood stiffly before him, rain crashing against the windows on either side and lightening flickering in the distance, followed by the boom of thunder. Jack put his hand on the handle.

Better he try his luck out there than in this madhouse controlled by villainous creatures.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Someone asked, startling Jack and making him jump back from the doors.

Sombra stood at the base of the stairs, leaning against the bannister. She raised an eyebrow at his silence. “Well?”

Jack parted his lips, then closed them again. “I need to leave.” He said.

“You’ll die out there.” Sombra informed him, seemingly bored. “You humans are more delicate than you like to think. And it’s a bad night to go out.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s better than getting my head played with here.” He grasped the handle, hearing the latch click as he pulled the door open.

“You don’t want to do that.” Sombra said, making no move to stop him as rain fell around the door, dripping from the eaves.

“I think I do.” Jack confirmed, looking out from the doors. The manor seemed to be the only source of light for a ways, the area unfamiliar. The village lay nearly in the center of the valley. If he walked in a straight line, he’d almost surely come to somewhere recognizable.

Today would be the first day of the curfew, he realized. Of all nights, the most likely for someone to accept a stranger for the night, no questions asked.

“Jack,” Sombra trilled in a singsong voice.

Jack ignored her, taking his first step past the threshold.

Hot breath puffed on the back of his neck, making him go still. Jack turned around slowly.

McCree loomed over Jack, the geniality of the night before gone. His eyes had taken on an intensity, pinning Jack in place.

“Move.” He ground out.

Jack held his hands up. “I was just getting some fresh air,” he lied weakly.

“Don’t care.” McCree closed his eyes for a moment, taking a slow, deep breath before he opened them again. “If you want to live, don’t run. And _look down_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Jack’s heart was thundering in his chest. Gods, he was going to die here in this house, at the mercy of monsters. “I’m not going to wait to die here.” He said firmly, meeting McCree’s eye defiantly.

A sharp growl, and McCree was on him, attacking with bestial brutality, his only aim to get Jack down. Jack’s attempts to fight back were vastly ignored, as though each blow did nothing. Within moments Jack was on his back on the floor, sharp knees digging into his thighs and wrists held in a tight grip above his head, the other hand held tightly at his throat, fingernails digging sharply into his skin in a silent threat.

McCree bore down on him, a continuous snarl coming from him while Sombra watched on with vague interest.

“That’s enough.” A stern voice said, and the three looked toward its source.

He stood on the landing, expression murderous, glaring at McCree. A man. _The_ man. The man from Jack’s dream, to every detail.

McCree kept up a low growling, his grip on Jack tightening.

“Get off of him.” The man said, voice commanding.

McCree looked venomously at the man, but released Jack and stood. Jack pushed himself to his elbows.

“Where’s Hanzo?” The man asked sharply.

“Resting. Wore him out.” McCree replied shortly.

“Then you should go burn off some energy.”

Their gazes locked coldly for some time in a battle of wills. It was McCree who looked away resentfully, sparing Jack one last glare before he turned, stepping out the front door and closing it tightly behind him.

“Sombra.” The man barked.

She smiled sweetly. “Sí papi?”

“Get out of my sight before I figure out what I’m going to do with you.”

Sombra pouted her lips, walking away.

The moment she was gone, the man’s eyes were on Jack.

Jack scrambled to his feet, feeling all the world like a cornered rabbit.

“Are you hurt?”

Jack blinked, surprised. “No.”

Warm brown eyes stared long and hard at Jack, the expression surprisingly soft. The man’s hand twitched, as though intending to raise it, but his fist clenched instead.

“Amélie will make you breakfast.” The man said. “Talk to her if your back starts bothering you.” And he turned back up the stairs, footsteps silent.

At the mention, the shallow cuts on Jack’s back began prickling. There was a moment before his mind caught up. He started quickly up the stairs.

“Wait.” Jack protested. The man didn’t stop. If anything, he quickened. Jack all but ran the last twenty feet, catching the man by the wrist. “Wait.” He said again.

The man spun around, shoving Jack’s back into the wall. Long, sinister fangs extended from his gums, bared threateningly. His eyes… the irises were no longer warm brown, but rather an unnerving crimson.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Jack managed to settle his breathing. “You’re Gabriel.”

The man closed his mouth, red receding from his eyes. When he spoke, the fangs were gone as well. “You have questions. You get three.” Gabriel stepped back and crossed his arms.

Jack didn’t even know where to start. “What the hell was that? The dream.”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s it? No explanation?”

“Is that your second question?”

Jack sighed. “Alright. Are you going to kill me?”

“No.” Gabriel replied without missing a beat.

“Then why do you want me here?”

Gabriel looked at Jack, visibly chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought. “It’s complicated.”

Jack threw up his hands in exasperation. “One more.” He said. “You owe me for those two.”

Gabriel shrugged and nodded.

“The dream, what happened…” Jack started, “Do you- is it going to happen again? When I’m not sleeping?”

Gabriel seemed to consider this before he stepped closer. Jack felt his breath catch as the vampire crowded into his personal space, backing up until his back hit the wall again.

Dark eyes were on his as Gabriel leaned in close, their lips just barely ghosting over each other.

Jack inhaled once sharply, closing his eyes and pushing forward.

It wasn’t like his dream. Here, Gabriel was cold. No pulse beat through him.

Gabriel’s hands caught his hips, holding Jack still as their lips moved and molded together. Jack grabbed Gabriel by the back of the neck, forcing the vampire to deepen the kiss. Jack moaned softly as Gabriel’s tongue coiled over his, wetly mapping his mouth.

Gabriel pulled back, their lips making a wet noise as they separated.

Jack blinked a few times to get his bearings.

“You know where my study is.” It wasn’t a question.

Jack dipped his head in a nod.

Gabriel’s hand slid up over Jack’s throat, squeezing once gently at the sides. “I’m a very selfish man, Jack. If you knock on that door, I will take you. I will take your blood and I will take your body and I’ll give you mine in return. If you come to that door, those are my conditions. So think on it.”

* * *

**SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO**  
  
Gabe sat stationary in the branches, watching the village children from afar in the light of the setting sun as they darted around, playing their games.

He was restless. It’d been too long since he’d had a good meal. If his information was right, the Deadlock Pack wasn’t far off. Malicious bastards would tear right through the valley if they weren’t stopped, eating, killing, rutting, and/or turning any human they came across, moon time be damned.

Likewise, Gabe had to be alert for them.

Should the village miss the instinct to flee in the face of Deadlock, Gabriel had only to make himself known. It was better to be feared than loved by those you wished to protect.

One of the older children shouted something, then let out a roar. The young ones scattered from her with screams, running in all directions.

He cursed gently to himself as a few of them began weaving through the trees not far from him. Where were these kids’ parents, and why weren’t they teaching them not to just fucking run off?

He watched as one child attempted to make a sharp turn, running headlong into the rough trunk of a tree and fall onto his rump.

Gabe could smell blood immediately. He checked to make sure there wasn’t anyone else around before he fazed, black fog traveling quickly through the branches and to the ground.

Kid wasn’t even crying, just repeatedly touching his fingers to his face in wonder, as though he couldn’t believe he was actually bleeding, even as the front of his off-cream dress was stained with it.

Gabriel sighed as he rematerialized, crouching down immediately to take the child’s hand away from his face. Gabe jerked from inside his vest pocket a handkerchief, cleaning the boy’s fingers.

“Look at me.” Gabe said sharply, wiping the blood dripping from the boy’s nose.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, entirely unafraid.

“A monster.”

“No you’re not.” Gabe turned his gaze back up to the boy. Wide blue eyes, rosy cheeks, blond curls.

“Yes I am.” Gabe asserted.

“No.” The boy repeated. “Monsters are mean and scary.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Jack.”

“Well, Jackie, try not to run into so many trees.” Gabe recommended, tucking the bloodied handkerchief back into his pocket. He scooped his hands beneath Jack’s armpits, lifting him back onto his feet. “Now run along home. It’s getting dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn  
> Jesse getting ready for the full moon  
> Plot  
> And then our flashback from Gabe's perspective.
> 
> I was actually really amazed by all the positive feedback I got on the first chapter. Like, wow. I want all you guys to know that I love you a bunch and I love making Gabriel Reyes experience emotional pain, so buckle in.
> 
> Leave a comment to let me know what you thought, and/or find me at a-sad-little-biscuit.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter Three

**SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO**

Gabriel looked down at the wolf—the pup—before him. A youth of but fifteen, give or take, teeth bared.

“You gonna bite me if I let you up, cabrón?” It’d be a poor decision. The entirety of the Deadlock Pack was a mangled mess across the clearing, a few spread out among the trees, the only survivor spared by his youth and Gabriel’s mercy. Kid had sure fought like hell, though.

A moment of quiet. “Naw, don’t think I will.”

“Good boy.” Gabriel couldn’t resist the jab as he released his grip on the back of the boy’s neck. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing with this bunch?”

The kid sat up, attempting to regain dignity and symbolic control by slouching. “Pack is life.”

“Pack is dead, actually, or maybe you’d missed that bit.”

“The fuck do you even care?” The mouthy little fucker asked.

Good question. “You’re young. You keep trying to tag along with lowlives like these, you’re gonna die young.”

The kid shook his head. “Living in your big fancy house make you forget what it’s like, old man? You don’t get a pack, you’re dead.”

Gabriel crossed his arms. This was fucking ridiculous. “Think you can handle a few rules, Perrito? Don’t kill my humans, get your shit on a leash?”

“You lookin’ for a husband?” The kid asked cynically as he stood.

“I’m in the habit of feeding stray dogs. It’s that or I scatter your brains on the ground.”

“Jesse McCree.”

“Gabriel Reyes.”

* * *

Jack knew he wasn’t supposed to go outside when the doors were latched at night. But the danger on those nights was monsters, and Jack already knew a monster who was nice.

Jack had hardly been able to sleep with all the barking and baying of the creatures.

A bit of finagling and stretching, and the latch gave way to the whims of a four-year-old.

The grass was cool beneath Jack’s feet, damp with dew. The moon hung heavy and bright overhead, nearly full. Jack shut the front door. ‘Close the door.’ Mother would tell him. Jack was her Sweet Boy, so he did it without being asked.

Crickets chirped loudly, tiny bugs leaping up around his bare legs with each muffled step. Jack quickened his pace, running through the field. He knew the area around the farm by heart. He slowed when he heard something crack. A stick, he concluded, and wondered who would be out breaking sticks in the dark.

It was a lady, he found, with mud all up her side and her head. Her footsteps shambled, weight rested on one shaky hand against the trunk of a tree. She only had the one arm, Jack saw, and one of her legs dragged behind her a bit.

“Hello.” He said.

The lady stopped, head jerking to him. Jack noted the glassy character to her eyes, as though she were falling asleep. She smiled at him.

“Now where did you come from, little one?” She asked sweetly.

* * *

Gabe had sent Jesse off to find dry wood while he cleared a space. Probably best the kid wasn’t here while Gabe prepared the corpses of his entire pack for burning.

He heard a high-pitched scream from the direction of the village, dropping the decapitated body in his arms. He dematerialized, smoke covering ground far faster than he could on foot.

Dammit, he knew he shouldn’t have trusted Jesse to go off on his own. He should have known the little shit would try to pick off a few innocents just to spite Gabe.

He stopped near one of the outlying farms, the only sound the wet tearing of flesh. Without thought, Gabe rematerialized and surged forward, tackling the assailant.

It wasn’t Jesse, he saw, but rather an injured shewolf, covered in blood. Her arm was missing, likely back in the field with her fellows, her ankle broken.

Gabriel snapped her neck, ripping the head off for good measure.

On the ground, a tiny form lay prone. A child, face and neck and chest ripped apart by fingernails and teeth. His blood splattered the front of his nightshirt, sticking his blond hair to his head.

The boy Gabriel had met just before sunset. Jack.

Gabe dropped to his knees beside the boy. Unconscious, not dead, heart still beating. Careful not to jostle the boy, Gabe picked him up in his arms.

Tiny, broken body held safely to his chest, Gabe ran.

He ran until he was nearly at the edge of the valley, fist banging on the door of the small stone cabin, abandoned by all appearances. The low dilapidated wall meant to fence in the garden, planted herbs nibbled on by deer and rabbits, clinging vines and moss taking hold of any bit of wall they could. The only sign of life was the steady stream of smoke piping from the chimney.

When he refused to stop knocking, the door was jerked in and a woman in her nightdress answered.

The woman almost certainly had a scolding prepared for him for waking her so late, but it died on her tongue.

Ana looked at him, at Jack in his arms. “Come in.” She told him, stepping from the door. “Quickly.”

Gabe crossed the threshold, unsure where to look. The only patient he'd ever brought in was himself, and he doubted Jack was up to sitting in Gabe's usual chair.

Ana bustled around, gathering up supplies. She glanced once at him and crossed to the table, blowing across it's surface to disrupt the layer of flour. “Here.” She told him, slapping her hand onto the surface. “Remove his clothes.”

Gabe was infinitely careful as he lowered the mangled boy onto the table, cradling his head to stop it from thumping. The nightshirt he ripped down the front, wincing at the way some of the shredded fabric lifted for a moment flayed skin.

Ana returned from the hearth with a kettle of water, pouring some into a wooden bowl. She was unmindful of the steam that rolled off as she plunged a rag into it, then wrang it out.

She started on Jack's chest, wiping away blood quickly, efficiently.

“I hope you didn't plan on breaking another one of my chairs.” She said, interrupting the heavy silence.

Gabe looked down, loosening his grip on the wood.

“You know I work better with explanation.” Ana commented. “And you also know our deal only extends to your household.”

“I'll pay you for your time.” Gabe assured her. “I couldn't take him to the Zieglers, I don't even think their stuff would work for this.”

“Hm.”

“Deadlock straggler.” Gabriel finally spoke. “She must've found him while I was getting rid of the bodies.” He watched as Ana threaded a thick needle with silk, tying it off neatly before she pulled some of the skin together, starting to shove the needle through skin.

“He's but a babe.” Ana reminded him, one hand falling to her own midsection, just beginning to show the signs of rounding with child.

Gabriel had no response to that, merely watching as Ana carefully stitched the boy back together, wiping blood from his skin. His wounds still bled, though Gabriel was glad to see that it had slowed considerably.

“Will he live?” Gabe finally asked, eyes locked on the dirtied face.

“You said Deadlock?”

Gabe nodded.

“I do not know if the moon is yet in place for transformation. If this happens, you will have to take him in or kill him. Young wolves are volatile. The matter of telling his family should fall to you, as this was your clumsiness.”

“You're talking down to me again.” Gabe reminded her.

“Forgive me, my friend. I forget too easily that you are unchanging, not young.”

Ana tied off the silk, cutting the thread. Jack's chest was back together, at least, though the wound would no doubt scar terribly.

“If he does not turn, he may survive.” Ana concluded. “So long as infection does not set in, if he lasts until morning, he will recover.”

“That's a lot of ‘if’s.”

Ana hummed her response. “Tell me, Gabriel, why did you seek to save this boy? Sentiment, perhaps?“

Gabe scoffed, shaking his head. “You know I'm too old for sentiment, Ana.”

“And yet you stay and watch over people who scorn you. Why, if you do not care?”

“It's easier. I know the area, they know to stay out of my way, my house is here.” Gabriel drummed his fingers on his knee. “I don't know anyone else willing to patch me up.”

“I will not be around forever, you know.” Ana reminded him.

Gabriel knew. He avoided getting close to anyone for that reason. “You're leaving a legacy.” He pointed out.

“And if my child doesn't want to tend to your wounds?”

“I'm pretty persuasive.”

The alchemist laughed. She returned her attention to Jack, stitching the cut over his collarbone. Her brow furrowed.

She pressed her fingers to the side of Jack's neck. “Gabriel,” she hissed in whisper.

Gabe shook his head, steadfastly ignoring the absence of Jack's heartbeat in the cabin. Gods, when had he heard it last? He should have been listening for it, not letting it blend into the background of his mind.

“What do we do?” He demanded of Ana. “You have to help him, we have to save him,”

“Gabriel, there's nothing-”

“Ana, he's dying, we have to do something.”

“If you would listen, I think we can delay-”

“Ana, he's a kid! Whatever delay you can put on his dying is way too fucking short.”

“Gabriel!” She snapped, Gabe's hand flying up on instinct to catch her wrist before a slap connected to shake him from his shock. “There is something.”

Gabe nodded, looking at her expectantly. Gods, everything was moving too slow, and Jack was slipping farther and farther away from life.

“If you give him your blood,”

“Ana what the fuck!?” Gabe exclaimed. “I'm not going to turn a kid!”

“You won't be turning him.” Ana assured him. “With the preservative properties of vampiric blood, a small dose should be enough to draw him back from the brink of death and begin to heal his wounds.”

“You've thought about this before, haven't you?” Gabe asked her, part amazed and part angry.

“In theory,” Ana continued. “Without a high enough ratio in his veins, the effects should lay dormant so long as he maintains mental shields.”

“He'd need a telepath's help to even start. Without one he'd be sending up a signal to anything supernatural for miles around.”

“Or someone able to access his subconscious.” Ana added. “Such as a vampire of his line.” She cut off Gabe's next interjection. He saw her hand curl over the hilt of a knife, as though sure of his choice already. “If he maintains the shields, he could live a normal life.”

Gabe looked at her seriously for a few moments, then to Jack. But for the cruel-looking stitches and traces of blood, it was as though he were merely sleeping. A tiny angel, body temperature dropping with each minute.

“Fine.” Gabriel agreed, holding his hand out for the blade. “How much?”

* * *

**PRESENT**

Jack went to the parlor, unsure where else to go.

Amélie was the only one there, glancing up at him as she stood beside what Jack had come to understand was Hanzo and Jesse’s table. Her pale hands polished a porcelain cup on a white cloth, setting only one place and leaving behind a teapot.

Jack took his seat from the night before. He happened to look in Amélie’s direction, finding her eyes fixed on him.

He dropped his gaze. Shit, did she have a way of knowing? Jesse’s comment the night before had reasserted to Jack that he was among nonhuman creatures with nonhuman abilities. Jesse could smell, could Amélie as well? Could she read his mind? Jack fought the urge to bring his hand up to his lips, to where Gabriel’s had been just minutes before.

“What do you want?” Amélie asked him.

Jack straightened up. “Me? Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

The woman stared at him for several long minutes in what he could tell was silent exasperation.

“What do you want to eat?” She clarified.

“Oh, um, I’m not really hungry.” Jack said pitifully.

“You will die young if you do not eat.” Amélie explained to him graciously. “You will have bread and cheese.”

“Mind if I have a bite?” A voice said not far from Jack’s ear, startling him and making him jerk forward.

Sombra laughed. “Jumpy.” She noted, taking the seat across from Jack. “Jesse didn’t scare you too bad, did he? Or did Gabi get a little rough with you?”

At that, a flood of heat rushed to Jack’s cheeks.

Thankfully, that was when Hanzo arrived for breakfast, distracting Sombra while she attempted to tease him about a really awful bruise near the base of his throat that she suggested he seek a medical opinion on.

* * *

**SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO**

Jack yawned sleepily as he rose from bed, noting a bit of an ache in his head. He scratched his belly, finding himself in a different nightshirt than the one he had gone to sleep in. Or at least, he thought so. He was sure that he’d worn the blue one the night before. Jack shrugged. He was probably mistaken.

He scurried from the nursery. As expected, Father was missing from the house already. Unexpectedly, so was Mother. Jack clambered onto their bed, patting the sheets to see if she might be hiding beneath them.

“Mother?” Jack called up to the loft, hearing no response. The hearth was low, no pot simmering quietly over the fire.

Jack’s gaze fell to the door. His bare feet tramped on the worn wooden floor, hands grasping the handle of the door and pulling it down.

There were a few people outside, off some ways from the house, all looking at something on the ground and talking.

Besides Mother and Father, there was Dr. Ziegler (the woman, not the man) and the Mayor.

Jack started running right on out to them, glad they were having company.

He saw Mother turn her head and spot him, then say something to the others before she started walking over to meet him.

Mother smiled wide when she reached him and scooped him up in her arms, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There’s my sweet boy.” She said, hefting him up onto her hip. “Let’s go get you dressed while Father talks, yeah?”

Jack nodded his assent, resting his chin on her shoulder.

He frowned. In the gap in the ring Mother had left, Jack could nearly make out what they were looking at on the ground. Just peeking from around Dr. Ziegler’s boot, it looked like a hand…

Mother sat him down when they got to the house, leading him to the square table in the middle of the room and plopping him into a chair.

Mother sucked her teeth. “Jackie, you’ve got a nosebleed.”

Jack’s tongue darted upwards, catching a taste of copper.

“Don’t,” Mother scolded, dabbing her handkerchief at his upper lip, pinching his nostrils briefly as she wiped away the blood.

Her eyes moved upward from his nose, running the bad of her thumb from his forehead to the side of his nose. “You’ve got a scratch, Jackie.”

“I ran into a tree yesterday. My nose bled then, too.”

Mother shook her head. “Be careful,” she cautioned.

“My friend helped me.”

Mother folded her handkerchief tightly, tucking it into the waist of her skirt. “Which friend was that, sweetheart?”

Jack shrugged. “My new friend.” He hadn’t caught his new monster friend’s name.

But he seemed nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was mostly back story plot stuff to help establish Jack and Gabe's relationship prior to this whole mess. Well, the initial mess, at least.
> 
> At this point in the flashback, Jack is four, Fareeha has not been born yet, and Angela is but a distant thought on the horizon.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for the support I've received so far, it really makes me feel good about my writing knowing that other people enjoy it.  
> Leave a comment if you have time and words to say. Find me at a-sad-little-biscuit.tumblr.com if you want to yell at me there.


	4. Chapter Four

**SIXTEEN YEARS AGO**

Jack seemed content to ignore Gabe. Content to keep his maker (‘too young’, Gabe reminded himself, ‘too young to understand the gravity of the term or to have need of it in the first place’) and likewise, his subsequent woes, estranged from the forefront of his mind.

Jack was a child, therefor inclined to less intricate dreamscapes.

The subconscious thoughts twisted in a dizzy swirl of color and recollection within the scenery, and Gabe noted gratefully that nothing of the night Jack had been changed marred the landscape.

For weeks, Gabe had been locking himself in his study, closing his eyes and slipping vividly into Jack’s mind. If he tried the same thing with Sombra, she’d probably smack him. Brat. She herself prided herself on being able to transverse mental barriers with ease and extract secrets.

In truth, it would have been significantly easier for Sombra to help Jack build walls. Being both a telepath in her own right and one of Gabriel’s, and therefore Jack’s, bloodline, she might even be able to do so without his noticing.

But Gabe hadn’t told her about his mission yet. Jack’s mind needed to be carefully molded and shaped, to protect him completely from enemies the small boy couldn’t begin to understand. Gabe only trusted himself to do that. And like Ana had said, it was his responsibility.

Gabe sighed. He’d put this off long enough. It had to be done, even if it disturbed whatever rationed peace he found in Jack’s mind.

Gabe lay the first stone of the wall, so to speak.

Memories of warmth and safety woven in with Jack’s own recollections of happiness created a slim barrier against the outside world.

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Gabe sighed. That really hadn’t been enough time.

They were shrouded in a dull blue, a pocket of air and visible light around them. An impossibly young being stared down and impossibly old one.

Gabe forced a smile. “Can you keep a secret, Jackie?”

* * *

**PRESENT**

Jack didn’t want to leave his room for any reason except meals, but when he lingered he could feel the dream pulling him back in.

With perfect clarity, hands were on him, a hot, greedy mouth on his.

He was stirred by a jovial whistling, startled when McCree entered the parlor. The man looked a bit worse for wear, scratches on his face and arms.

Jack watched him carefully, wary of another strong shift in temperament. Likewise, he flinched when a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Sorry about the other night.” McCree said with a bit of a sheepish laugh. “That time of the month, if ya catch my drift.”

Wha-?

A tilt of Amélie’s head, and Jack’s gaze fell on the window. Stars were scattered across the dark blue sky, the moon large and but a sliver from fullness. Oh. Of course.

“‘S alright.” Jack said after a moment, lost for what else to say.

“Hope the boss didn’t give ya too hard a time.” Jesse continued, taking his seat at his and Hanzo’s table. He turned to Sombra at her own table, where she was contenting herself with reading over an absurdly thick tome, occasionally scratching notes into the margins. “And whatever you got, ya had coming.”

Sombra seemed affronted at this. “I did nothing wrong.” She claimed.

“You set a shifting wolf on Gabriel’s human.” Amélie chimed in.

Jack felt the protest growing in his chest at being called _Gabriel’s_ , recalling to mind Gabriel’s words the night before. _“I will take you.”_ He’d warned plainly, as though it were the simplest of facts. _“Mi sol.”_

“No one asked you, zombie.”

“You do not eat and you do not cook, so there is no reason for you to be at breakfast.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Not all of us can sulk in our rooms all night like Gabi. Gods only know what he does in there.”

As if on cue, the scratches down Jack’s back began to prickle. He buried any expression he might have shown in a biscuit shoved almost forcefully into his mouth.

“Why don’t you just use your mind magic and find out?” Jesse asked, ripping the thick cut of venison placed in front of him by Amélie with his fingers.

“He’s been blocking me,” Sombra griped, bringing up her fingers to rub at her temples. She turned her eyes sharply to Jack, mischievous smile on her lips. “But I don’t suppose Gabi’s been visiting his pet human in his dreams?”

Jack nearly choked, flush spreading all the way to his ears.

The conversation was, blessedly, steered away when Hanzo arrived, hair and clothing impeccable and seemingly immune to whatever exaggerated wolf-whistling Jesse started up for his own entertainment.

Jack returned to his room to suffer a few more hours of solitude.

* * *

It was a knocking at the manor doors that took Gabriel from his study. Through the trickle stream of consciousness that bound them, he knew Jack had not heard it.

Gabriel straightened his vest as he made his way down the stairs. He already knew who stood behind the door, but he still indulged the girl with something akin to surprise when he saw her.

Her gaze was sharp as her tongue, not unlike her mother’s.

“You have to send him back.” She said, stubbornly crossing her arms.

“Hello to you too.” Gabe answered, stepping aside to let the human pass through the door. “You’re up late, aren’t you?”

She shook her hair free from the hood of her cloak, letting it cascade down her back. “Where’s Jack?” She continued, all business.

“Upstairs.” Reading, if the vivid imaginings coming through the other end of their link was anything to go by. So he’d found the library after all.

“Does he know anything yet?” The girl continued.

“A little.” Gabe admitted.

“And he hasn’t left yet.” She acknowledged. “But he hasn’t accepted you yet.”

“These things take time.” Gabe tried.

“No. Just because you’re older than all of us, you don’t get to pretend you know what’s best for everyone.” Her eyes glinted, a touch of anger rising in her voice. Jealousy, Gabe noted, as well.

“They wouldn’t let him come back, anyways.” He reasoned. “How much longer could Jack hold out? A month? A year? The second something happened, he’d be killed.”

Gabe tilted his head, looking at her. Slight though her form was, she was a fair match for Sombra in terms of magical potential, young though she was.

“It’s his only chance.” Gabriel argued.

“He’d have more options if you’d just give everything back, let him build his own walls against your curse.” Her words were venomous, meant to scathe him in exchange for her own hurts.

Gabe bit his tongue. The image of the bloodied, broken little boy, the victim of Gabe’s carelessness, flooded his mind. “You don’t want that.” He said, voice cold. “You don’t want that, because then Jack would remember that he’s in love with me.”

The girl’s eyes bore into Gabe’s for a few moments longer before she looked away, attempting to conceal the pain from a being that saw everything before him.

“Your mother will notice you’re gone.” Gabe told her, stepping aside to give her a clear path to the still-open doors. “Go home, Angela.”

* * *

Jack’s feet crunched with each step, the brittle carpeting of the forest alerting all around to his presence.

But there was no one—or thing—around to hear. Just stillness and a somewhat familiar setting, familiar only in the sense that Jack as a child had often lost his way wandering the edge of the tree line, his sense of direction vanished the moment the horizon wasn’t clearly before him.

He sighed. If he was able to find the river, he could follow it to the village and return to the farm in the morning. Now that the immediate threat of Gabriel taking him had more or less passed, perhaps the Zieglers might be convinced to take him in for a few hours.

Unlikely, but hope was better than the prospect of crawling in through loose cellar doors to shelter himself from vampires until dawn came.

Something was following him, he realized. The presence of it nipped at his heels, slow and steady. Taunting him with its patience.

 _You can’t escape me._ It said. _I will catch you sooner or later._

Jack was able to put some distance between himself and the presence by quickening his pace, and relaxed a bit.

It took no more than a moment before the sensation of being watched returned.

It was speeding up with him, scrabbling claws brushing at the tendons in his ankles to mock him with their closeness.

Jack stumbled, panicking as he attempted to regain his footing.

A hand laced with his, cool and heavy and hauling him up and then leading him away. The creature at his back could not keep up with the both of them, its malicious presence fading.

“Thank you.” Jack whispered.

Gabriel smiled at him.

* * *

Jack jerked upright, all but rolling out of bed.

It’d been a week since Gabriel had entered his dreams, since he’d given Jack his ultimatum. It was still light out, orange sunlight trickling past the edges of the heavy curtains.

“Bastard,” he muttered under his breath as he shoved on a pair of trousers and a shirt. “Lying son of a-”

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

Jack startled, falling onto his ass with his pants halfway up his thighs.

Sombra gazed at Jack apathetically from the doorway, unaffected by his frantic attempts to properly dress himself.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” She warned sardonically.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked. “Shouldn’t you be-”

“Cracking open the heads of kittens and drinking their blood? Sacrificing first born children?”

“Asleep.”

Sombra shrugged. “Shouldn’t you? Your nose is bleeding, by the way.” A smirk danced on her lips, unsettling.

Jack brought his hand to his upper lip, indeed finding hot wetness and coming away with a dirtied crimson.

* * *

Gabe could hear him, practically _feel_ Jack storming through the halls. His eyes darted to the clock. It was still barely night. He could smell the bleeding; it’d been too long since he’d last fed. Somehow the idea of doing so while Jack was in the house seemed unbearable. He wondered if Jack were bleeding from the ears, as Gabe had, or the eyes like Sombra.

There was a pounding at the door to his study.

He opened the door, remaining unfazed by Jack’s startling backwards; as though he hadn’t really expected Gabriel behind the door.

Jack’s nose, as it turned out, was bleeding. It’d been mostly stopped, not entirely coagulated, the slightest hint of rust inside the curve of a nostril.

“You said you would stop.” Jack said, accusatorily.

“I…what?” Gabe asked. Stop what? A naïve bubble of hope worked its way into his still heart, wondering what Jack spoke of, what memory was touched on and examined and cradled now that had stirred Jack to this near-rage.

“The dreams.” Jack continued, as though it were obvious, and Gabe were intentionally antagonizing him. “You said that you would stop doing…that.”

Gabriel blinked, then a small smile appeared on his lips as he took it all in; the unwashed masculine scent clinging to Jack’s skin, the flush of his cheeks, the bright anger. “Jackie, did you have a wet dream about me?” The sort of teasing banter they might have fallen into once, before.

Jack’s body went rigid, color spreading across his face and all the way down his neck.

Gabriel decided he’d spare Jack the embarrassment for now. “If there’s nothing else you needed…” He trailed off, slowly closing the door to his study.

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of rejection on Jack’s face as Gabriel's promise was called to mind before the door closed and the study was left in familiar darkness.

Gabe’s chest ached.

* * *

**THREE YEARS AGO**

Jack had dozed off, once more, his head in Gabe’s lap while the vampire had told stories of long ago. How one slept in their own dreams, Gabe hadn’t the slightest idea. At the very least, this slip of control sent Jack’s mind spinning into memory and imaginings; the sorts of dreams he might have had were he completely human.

Gabriel carded his fingers through the flaxen hair, trying to commit this moment to memory. How far they’d come from an adolescent boy asking permission before planting experimental kisses on the cheek of his mentor-figure and a put-upon old man enjoying intimacy he could not ever recall feeling.

It could not last, Gabe knew. Even Jesse could detect Jack at this point; everyday more of him ceased to be human, without the mental fortitude of a vampire. Already creatures had begun to lurk on the edges of the valley, curious at the presence of this evidently unskilled fledgling. It wouldn’t be long until they dared come for Jack.

Just three years. They’d agreed on that. If Jack had his way, he’d be fully turned already.

“ _You’re too young to die, Jack._ ” Gabriel would argue, after Jack cried out in the height of passion, begging to drink Gabriel’s blood.

“ _I’m not dying._ ” Jack would always counter with. “ _I’m just being born._ ”

In those moments, it was difficult for Gabriel not to give in and turn his beloved, to find him in the waking world—not a difficult task, as their bond was strong enough for Gabriel to feel Jack wherever he was—and kiss him. To make love with the human not just in mind but in body, to open a vein and share the most personal part of himself he had left to offer.

Jack was an astounding creature; he knew all of Gabriel’s history, and didn’t shy from him. He knew Gabriel’s duties, and warned him to be careful. Jack cared.

That was what made this so painful. The walls Gabe had helped Jack build were strong enough, able to shield him very well with maintenance.

It felt like a corruption of their bond, to steal away these moments, even for three years—just three years—and dwell only in the shadows until Jack was old enough. Twenty-one years of age, five years than Gabriel by appearances, and they could at last be reunited.

“You’ll still return.” Jack said quietly, eyes now open once more.

Gabe gave a gentle smile. “Of course, mi sol. Every night, I’ll be with you.”

“But you’ll take that away too.”

Gabriel nodded gravely.

“You’ll give them back when I’m ready?” Jack asked, somewhat anxiously. “When I’m old enough, and once I love you?”

“If you can learn to love a monster a second time.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, frustration marring his features. “You’re not a monster, Gabe. Just a fool. I’ll always love you.”

Gabe pursed his lips. Three years. “I’ll keep them safe.” Every memory of Gabe, every touch they’d shared, every mention of the tiny amount of Gabriel’s blood surviving and lying dormant in Jack’s veins. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I'm aware, but I really wanted to crunch this part out before I shift gears a little bit.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated. Or you can yell at me at a-sad-little-biscuit.tumblr.com
> 
> EDIT 11/1/17: In regards to the comments about the timeline, I've revised how I present flashbacks to make it a little easier to understand.


End file.
